Lindsay McKenna - Protecting His Own

Right now, Gunnison was pushing every emotional button she owned. He had taken the high road in all of this and she…well, it wasn’t pretty. She was behaving like a fifteen-year-old girl who had been jilted.

Sam tried not to think what he must think of her. Sending him a swift glance, she saw his eyes thaw for just a moment. In that split second, she glimpsed the man, not the marine on duty. But it happened so fast she thought she was imagining it. Jerking her head back toward the window, she concentrated on finding that microwave tower.

“Yes…I see it,” she muttered finally.

“Good. Now—” Roc swung his finger in an arc “—start checking out this area. The eastern boundary is nothing but desert and sagebrush.” He pulled his left hand back and looked at the dials on his watch. “In two minutes, we’re gonna hit that boundary—I’ll tell you when we fly over it. Then you’ll have three sides of area 5 in view. The pilot is going to fly to the western boundary and then turn back to the landing zone, which basically sits in the middle of it. There’s a destroyed shopping mall there. That’s in the heart of the area you want to consider.”

“Yeah…okay. Thanks…” Sam scowled. She didn’t sound very grateful. It was a good idea to peruse the area from the air. This way, she could get an idea of where she might want her three medevac site models created. Trying to steady her heartbeat, which became faster and more erratic each time Gunnison accidentally brushed against her, she stared out the window.

This was her first chance to look at the actual devastation caused by the giant quake. For the last five weeks she’d been handling the huge number of casualties from it, but she’d had little concept of the massive damage the earthquake had wrought on the L.A. basin. Mother Nature, when she was pissed off, could really stick it to them, Sam thought sadly. Holding the map in her left hand, she focused all her concentration on the job before her. As she spotted the second tower, she heard Gunnison tell her they’d just flown across the eastern boundary.

Below her, Sam saw rolling hills of sagebrush and cactus flowing down toward the first block of red-roofed homes, which seemed to be carved from the land. After that, suburbs spread everywhere, like a colourful quilt covering the earth as far as she could see. As they flew on, Sam could see the utter devastation that the monster quake had wrought. Few homes were standing. Most were flattened totally. Red-tiled roofs were scattered helter-skelter across winter-brown lawns. Fences between homes were broken and splintered, trees knocked down like toothpicks. Sam noticed groups of people huddled around campfires here and there. In the early morning air, the number of thin black plumes of smoke showed her just how many campfires there were. Hundreds of them. Her throat tightened.

“Oh, God…I didn’t realize…I just didn’t know how bad this really was….”

Roc heard the tears in her husky tone and was unexpectedly moved. As he stared over her right shoulder, trying to ignore the strands of her hair tickling the side of his jaw, he growled, “I didn’t, either. This is my first time over the area, too. It looks like all hell has broken loose.”

Nodding jerkily, Sam felt tears come to her eyes. Rapidly, she blinked them away. Roc’s voice was low and filled with emotion. That surprised her. Before, his voice had been hard and flat—sounding like a robot’s. Well, he had feelings after all. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Maybe he did have a heart.

She focused again on the devastation below, trying to absorb it emotionally. As they flew on toward the western boundary the magnitude of the tragedy became even more painful to her. The poor were obviously suffering the same as the well-heeled; just as many campfires dotted the barrios as the wealthier suburbs, with even more people huddled around them, trying to get warm. How quickly humans could be thrown back into stone-age survival mechanisms, Sam realized.

“Okay, the pilot is going to make his last turn at the western boundary,” Roc told her. He’d watched as Dr. Andrew’s expression had gone from anxiety to obvious pain and suffering while she watched the devastation unfold before them. When she turned, her gaze meeting his when he spoke, he saw tears in her eyes.

It hit him in the heart like nothing ever had. His only experience with her had been when she’d faced him down about his injured man, like a harpy eagle unleashed. Now he was seeing a completely different side to her, and it touched him deeply. Unexpectedly. Scowling, Roc tried to protect himself from her vulnerability. It was impossible.

Sam quickly looked away. She hadn’t wanted Gunnison to see her with tears in her eyes. Dammit! Why couldn’t she be tough and distance herself from this kind of thing? Her professors at medical school certainly would be able to. Blinking again, she jerked her head toward the window once more in hopes that Gunnison wouldn’t say anything. She half expected him to make fun of her, or deride her as he had in the E.R. that day six months ago. Tensing, she felt him shift behind her.

“Okay, you got the picture,” he was telling her in a gruff tone. “Let’s get back to our seats. This chopper is gonna land pretty soon.”

Sam felt him stand up behind her, and she waited until he stepped away.

“I can make it back on my own.” To her own ears her voice sounded brittle and tinny. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to squelch her tears before she had to turn around and face her people and his men. As an officer, Sam couldn’t be seen crying. Not ever. Especially not in front of enlisted people. They had a job to do, and her crying like a baby didn’t exactly instill faith in her leadership. Bowing her head for a moment, she remained on her knees, trying to gather her shattered emotions.

Unexpectedly, she felt Gunnison move to her right side. Looking up, she realized he was creating a physical barrier between her and their crew, most of whom were probably watching them. And then it hit her what he was really doing: protecting her from being seen in this condition by her people and his. As she looked up at him, amazed that he’d do that for her, as a fellow officer, she met and held his gleaming blue gaze. There was curiosity in his expression, and something else Sam couldn’t decipher.

“Take your time, Doc,” he told her, his voice husky. “I’ve seen this level of suffering over in Somalia and Kosovo. It takes some getting used to.” And he managed a twisted one-cornered smile that let her know he understood what she was going through.

Choking, Sam bowed her head and shut her eyes tightly. It took everything she had to force down her unraveling emotions. Afraid to talk for fear of bursting into tears of sympathy for those suffering so badly below them, she simply nodded to let him know she’d heard him.

Finally, after what seemed interminable minutes, Sam took a long, unsteady breath. There. Her emotions were tamped way down deep once more. Giving Gunnison a quick glance, she whispered, “Thanks…I’m okay now. You can step back.”

Roc nodded and did as she instructed, though his protective instincts were running full bore. He knew Dr. Andrews needed a human touch. To be held. To be told everything would be okay. But he knew better than to take her in his arms. Besides, his experience in Kosovo and Somalia had taught him that sometimes things didn’t always turn out okay and that the situation below was truly chaotic.

As he stepped back to give her room to get to her feet, he watched her closely. Even though Andrews was dressed in the mannish navy uniform, her bulky flak jacket hiding her womanly assets, she was incredibly graceful, like a ballerina to him. He wanted to ignore her femininity, but found himself absorbing her into his heart like a starving animal instead. That disgusted him, because Roc knew her to be a red-haired witch of the worst sort and his nemesis on this mission, despite the emotions he had just witnessed.